


The Incredible Not-Birthday of One Dean Winchester

by UnfortunatelyObsessed



Series: A Little Bit More [2]
Category: Supernatural
Genre: Bonfire, Coda, Dean's Birthday, Friendship, M/M, a lot of fluff, debriel, it's just fluff
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-08
Updated: 2021-02-08
Packaged: 2021-03-13 18:00:44
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 2,302
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29282637
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/UnfortunatelyObsessed/pseuds/UnfortunatelyObsessed
Summary: It's a bonfire, and a Not-Birthday.
Relationships: Gabriel/Dean Winchester
Series: A Little Bit More [2]
Series URL: https://archiveofourown.org/series/1909378
Comments: 9
Kudos: 13





	The Incredible Not-Birthday of One Dean Winchester

**Author's Note:**

> This is a coda to Listen to the Music. It takes place sometime between Dean coming home and Sam and Jess showing up there. I wrote it because I miss birthday bonfires (yay birthday two in quarantine). It's all fluff, so enjoy! I'll also have a new chapter of Piña Coladas within the next couple days so woot!

Gabriel smushed his marshmallows between two graham crackers.

“Dude,” Dean admonished. “We _have_ hot dogs.”

“Noted and ignored.”

Castiel laughed softly, handing Dean a beer. “He’s always had a bit of a sweet tooth.”

“A bit?” Dean laughed incredulously. “I had the marshmallows hidden! He had to _break into the cabinets_ to find them, and somehow he still did!”

“I could smell ‘em,” Gabriel said through marshmallow and chocolate.

“He could smell them,” Castiel confirmed seriously.

“Hey Gabrosie!” Charlie called out from where she was spearing two hot dogs. “Make me a s’more and I’ll make you a hot dog!”

Gabe gave her a thumbs-up, already shoving six marshmallows onto the metal prongs.

“You know,” Dean began slyly, leaning back in his lawn chair, “you can skip the cracker and chocolate altogether and just have immediate caramelized marshmallow. That’s how I always did it.”

“Yes,” Gabe deadpanned, “we all know you had a horrible childhood. No need to bring _war tactics_ into this.”

“Nah, hand me a marshmallow. I’ll prove you wrong.”

“I won’t let you defile a marshmallow like that.”

Dean reached across the fire pit and snatched the bag out of Gabe’s hands.

“Hey!”

“Thank you,” Dean sang out, already spearing the puffs. He stuck them directly into the small fire.

“They’re going to catch fire,” Gabe warned him.

“Yeah, that’s the idea.”

Gabriel made a very pitiful noise. “Someone stop him! He’s torturing the innocents!”

Castiel used his own skewer to push Dean’s farther into the fire.

Gabriel held his free hand over his chest. “Traitor!”

The marshmallows caught on fire, and Dean pulled them out, blowing them out easily.

“Look at them! They’re all burnt!”

“Yeah!” Dean pulled the burnt crust off, leaving perfectly white mallow underneath as he popped it in his mouth. “Then you do it again!”

“Oh god. This might be a deal breaker, Winchester.”

“Hypocrite.”

“What are you— _fuck!”_ Gabriel hastily pulled his marshmallows out of the fire, where they had dipped so far they themselves had gone up in flames. He frantically blew them out, sighing and hanging his head at the carbon layer. “I have failed you, Charles.”

“Nah, I like them like that.” Charlie turned the hot dogs slowly, keeping a close eye on them. “How do you like your hot dogs?” She held up a hand. “And do _not_ make a dirty joke.”

“Spoilsport.” He stuck his tongue out at her. “Almost burnt but not quite.”

Castiel took a sip of his beer. “You always made yours barely warm, though.”

“Yeah well, whether or not I can _wait_ for them to be almost burnt is another story.” He made a grabby hand. “Gimme the grahams again.”

Dean tossed the box idly. “And the chocolate, I presume?”

“You presume correctly!” He doled out the ingredients until he was looking at six successful s’mores. “Five for me, one for Charles.”

Charlie let out a bark of laughter. “Gee, thanks.”

“You’re welcome!” He grinned at her. “I _suppose_ I could be tempted to share.”

“Nah, one’s good for now. But I’ll be making more later.” She pulled the hot dogs out of the fire and walked over to the table with all the buns and toppings. “But maybe Dean wants one?”

Dean held up a hand. “I’m good. Got my burnt sugar here.”

“Which is an atrocity.”

Castiel smiled at the three of them. “Dean, it _was_ your idea to have a bonfire. And now I’m hearing you don’t even _like_ s’mores?”

“Oh, no, I _love_ s’mores. Don’t like eating them.”

“How do I love you,” Gabriel lamented.

“Poor choices,” Dean snarked back. “I think it’s fun watching people try to eat s’mores. Because you just can’t do it without making a mess of yourself.”

“Oh so you enjoy others’ pain, that’s what this is,” Gabriel said, already on his next s’more.

“Not quite.” Dean took a sip of his beer and shrugged. “When I was little, Dad would do his best to remember our birthdays or whatever. It usually wasn’t the right day. But the month was usually somewhere close, so we’d just let it happen. I said I wanted a bonfire once, when I was like, I dunno, eight or something. And it was… I mean, it was nice. Sitting around, talking, eating s’mores and hot dogs and _whatever._ Point is. I don’t like s’mores. But I like the circumstances surrounding them.”

Castiel smiled sadly at him. “That was surprisingly wholesome. So you just had bonfires every year after that?”

“Yeah. Managed to convince Sam and Dad that hot dogs were my favorite food.” He gave them a look that said they were not. “So don’t tell Sam. He still comes down on my birthday with a grocery bag full of hot dogs and marshmallows, because it’s just… _tradition_ now.” He frowned at his beer. “Didn’t really get that this year. Or last year. Fuckin’ pandemic.”

Gabriel looked at his s’more, then back at Dean. “Soooo want this to be your birthday party? We could Skype Sam in.”

Dean shook his head. “Thanks but ah, it’s not the same. Things’ll get better in time. Just kinda better not to dwell on it.”

Gabe sighed. “Are you doing the thing where you fight me when I try to care for you but secretly want me to _continue_ fighting to care for you?”

Dean cringed at himself. “Oh god. The ordeal.”

Gabe clapped. “Right! So it’s your birthday party, today on your Not-Birthday. Please know I am doing this for you and _only_ for you.” He put a marshmallow on the prongs and stuck them deep in the fire before lifting them up. “Blow out your candle,” he deadpanned.

He shook his head and laughed as Charlie and Castiel began singing a very horrid rendition of _Happy Birthday to You._

“You’re all so lame,” Dean joked fondly, rolling his eyes and blowing out the marshmallow fire.

Gabriel handed the roasting fork over. “Good job. Now take your abomination, birthday boy.” He grinned, leaning forward, the firelight dancing over his face. “So how old are you now? Twenty-one? Eighty-nine?”

“Thirty-four,” Dean said, balancing his beer on the chair arm.

Gabe tutted his tongue. “Gettin’ old there, babe.”

Dean snorted. “You’re one to talk. How old are you now? Eight hundred and nine? Or maybe just nine.”

“I’ll have you know I’m a full thirty-five. Thank you very much.”

“And you’re calling _me_ old,” Dean responded, eyes twinkling.

“You’re both old,” Cas deadpanned, taking a bite of the hot dog he had prepared while they were arguing. “That, of course, is coming from someone still in their prime.”

“Twenty-nine is _hardly_ your prime,” Gabe snarked back.

“More prime than you, of course. Charlie being the prime-est among us.”

Charlie held her free hand up. “Don’t drag me into this.” She handed Gabriel a plate. “My half of the bargain.”

He handed back two s’mores and picked up the hot dog. “Perfect. Thanks. Anyway. You’re like. A third of the way through life, man.”

Dean barked out a laugh. “Glad to know you think I’ll live to be over a hundred.”

“Won’t we all? Isn’t that like, a science thing now? Longer life expectancy?’

“Well, sure. But you and I are idiots, so that lowers it.” Dean smiled and took a swig of his beer. “Would you live forever? Given the chance?”

Gabriel breathed out, thinking. “Oh. Well… no. I don’t think I would. Would you?”

“I think I wouldn’t mind living longer than average, but… forever? No.” Dean looked expectantly at Castiel and Charlie.

Cas put his chin against his hand in thought. “Hmm. Immortality. Charlie already asked me this, and my answer is the same. No.”

“I say yes,” Charlie argued. “I wanna see all the cool shit people come up with. I don’t get why you guys don’t.”

Dean pointed at her. “Well that’s not true. I’d love to see it. I just don’t wanna go through the hassle of having to be _around_ that long.”

Gabriel nodded in agreement. “The concept of an _end_ is what makes things feel significant.” He scowled at the surprised faces. “I have deep thoughts! Just because I don’t voice them always doesn’t mean I don’t have them!”

“I thought cloning gave life meaning,” Castiel teased.

Gabriel groaned. “Oh my god. One day, one of you will get what I mean when I say that. But, sure. It really does all circle back to clones and whether or not you’d fuck them.”

Charlie’s eyes lit up. “Oh! I would _totally_ fuck my own clone!”

“See? She has it figured out.”

Dean held his hand out. “Okay wait. What if the _clone_ is immortal? Would you fuck it then, knowing that doing so necessitates an eternal sort of bond? A forever booty call, if you will.”

“Oof, _marry_ my own clone? Hard pass.” Charlie considered it a moment. “No, yeah, pass. I couldn’t have feelings for myself.”

Castiel eyed Dean curiously. “So, with cell regeneration, and with all these new branching memories, at what point does your clone _stop_ being your clone?”

“This is the fucking boat question in another form, isn’t it.”

“Yes.”

Dean sighed and leaned forward, elbows resting on his knees as he tried to think it out. “Fuck. I dunno. It takes seven years for the majority of cells in your body to be regenerated. But they’re still regenerating from the same DNA. I think, even after seven years, it’s still your clone.”

Gabe raised an eyebrow. “The boat question? I’m lost.”

Dean waved his hand. “It’s basically like… say I had a wooden boat.”

“Okay.”

“And a plank rots. So I replace it. Is it still the same boat?”

“...yes?”

“Cool. So how many planks can I replace until it’s not the same boat anymore?”

“…Huh.” Gabriel sat back, munching thoughtfully on a hot dog. “All of them.”

“Haven’t I just built a whole new boat at that point?”

“No, because your intention was still to repair the original boat. If you had _set out_ trying to build a new boat, it would _be_ a new boat. But you didn’t. It’s the same boat.”

Castiel nodded. “That’s one way of thinking about it.”

“Oh, great. It’s one of those questions without a real answer, isn’t it.”

Dean nodded, giving him an apologetic smile. “Afraid so.”

Gabe waved his hand in frustration. “It’s like the tree in the woods thing. No one knows.”

“Actually—“

Gabe leveled Dean with a stare. “Do _not_ sit there and tell me you _have an answer_ to that one and you’re _just now letting me know.”_

Dean laughed, hands out in surrender. “I didn’t know you cared! Yes! That one does have an answer!”

Charlie sat close to Gabriel, leaned forward in anticipation. “Well don’t just keep us waiting!”

He rolled his eyes, grinning. “No. A tree falling in the woods without anyone around to hear it doesn’t make a sound.”

“But it _has_ to!”

“It doesn’t.” Dean pointed to his own ear. “Things don’t _make_ sounds. They _vibrate._ And our ears pick up the vibrations and turn them _into_ sounds. So if there’s no ears to pick up the vibrations, that’s all that happens. It just vibrates.”

“That is incredibly unsatisfying.” Gabriel leaned back, frowning.

“I didn’t invent the answer!”

“No but you told it to me so that’s the next worst thing.”

Charlie shouldered him. “Be nice to the birthday boy.”

Dean smirked at that. “Yeah, be nice to the birthday boy.”

“I’ll be nice to you _later._ I’ll show you what that tree falling in the woods feels like.”

Dean’s face went blank as Castiel groaned and Charlie laughed loudly.

“I’m scarred. For life.” Castiel looked to the sky. “Oh, I think it’s about to rain.”

“Boooo,” Gabe yelled at the sky. “Hold off!”

In response, it thundered mildly.

“Ugh,” Gabe began, standing up. “Who’s down to take all this stuff inside and have a slumber party?”

“What? After _that?_ No thanks, don’t want to be anywhere _near_ you two,” Charlie responded, gathering up her trash.

Dean stood up as well, stretching his arms. “Alright, how about a few rounds of Mario Kart and _then_ you two can go home to avoid permanent mental damage?”

Charlie looked to Castiel, and Castiel looked to Charlie.

“Sure,” Cas ventured. “I get to be Toad.”

“No one else was gonna call Toad.”

“Well now I know that for _sure.”_

They all gathered as much as they could before it began sprinkling, and Cas and Charlie ran inside.

Dean was about to follow, but Gabe grabbed his elbow and stopped him.

“Hey,” Gabe whispered, all but pressed against him. “Happy Not-Birthday.”

Dean gave him a soft smile, and Gabe felt love and something… deeper, something intrinsic stir inside him. “Thank you,” Dean breathed, pressing a soft kiss to his lips.

And Gabe had the brief thought that he’d like to experience every Not-Birthday that Dean would ever have. “I love you,” he said instead, returning the kiss gently, lips soft against lips, quiet in the sound of the falling rain.

“I love you, too, Rosie.” Dean wrapped Gabe up in his arms and held him close, long enough that they were beginning to soak.

“Hey!” came Charlie’s voice from the door. “You two! Mario Kart! Like now!”

“Coming!” Dean yelled back, pressing one last kiss to Gabriel’s lips. “You ready?”

“Ready to what? Beat your ass? Always.”

“Oh, you wish.”

“I don’t have to waste a wish on that. It’s a given.” Gabriel grinned against his mouth. “Race ya,” he said before immediately taking off towards the door.

“Wh— hey! No fair!” Dean ran after him, and the gentle rain put out the fire to the sounds of love, friendship, and three people yelling loudly about being beaten by Toad.


End file.
